


Pictures Are Just The Stories We Hold On To

by altoinkblots



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 503 week, Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, EdWin Week 2020, F/M, Fluff, Gen, POV Outsider, lil bit of a time skip too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23977312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altoinkblots/pseuds/altoinkblots
Summary: Near the middle, there’s a small picture of Nana and Papa. It looks like they’re in their early twenties, both of them wearing white and grinning at the camera. They’re the only ones in the picture, and this one feels different. She can’t tell where they are, but they’re both clearly ecstatic about something.Or, Ed and Winry’s granddaughter likes to hear the stories of her Nana and Papa when they were young.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	Pictures Are Just The Stories We Hold On To

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: present tense is not my go-to, so if there are errors it’s simply because I’m not used to existing in the now. Secondly, there _is_ a tense change; I’m aware of it, I did it on purpose. 
> 
> Thirdly (before I let you go), this is _heavily_ inspired by dzioo’s “EdxWin” comic on Tumblr—mix that with a long drive and the Lumineers, and we get this. Enjoy!!

“Are we there yet?” Liam groans. The nine-year old is completely bent over in his seat, his wrists hanging down on the car floor, his blond hair flopping over his face.

Gwen rolls her eyes. Liam has been asking that question for three hours now, and she knows that both her and her parents are sick of it.

“Why don’t you read a book?” Dad asks, turning around to look at them. 

“I’ve read them all,” says Liam, swinging his arms around and hitting Gwen in the leg. She shoves her brother farther away from her.

“Read them again,” she snaps. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

Mom looks at her through the rear view mirror. “Behave,” she says, keeping an eye on the road. 

Gwen sighs. Why do Mom and Dad always insist on driving to Nana and Papa’s? Trains are an option, and so are airplanes. But no, they say it builds character. They aren’t the ones stuck in the backseat with Liam.

“I want some of Nana’s apple pie,” groans her little brother, sitting up and flopping on top of Gwen. Again, she shoves him off of her.

Mom grins, keeping her eyes on the road. “Me too, kiddo. Nana makes the best apple pie in the world.”

Dad nods. “I’d have to agree with that,” he says. “I first had some when your mom took me to introduce her parents.”

Gwen sighs. Every time they mention Nana’s pie, Dad starts with the story of when Mom had introduced him to Nana and Papa. It’s a nice story, but she’s heard it about a million times. 

Liam moves his mouth in time with Dad’s story, making Gwen giggle. Her brother is good for a couple of things.

Dad notices what Liam is doing. “I thought you were reading,” he says, turning around.

“I finished all of them,” says Liam. “I already told you that.”

“You’re just like Papa,” Mom says.

“But I don’t even like alchemy.”

“Doesn’t matter. Both of you are absolute bookworms.”

Liam grins. Gwen reaches over and plucks one of the books out of Liam’s pile, having finished her own. Liam looks over her and gasps. “I can see it, I can see it!” he cries, shaking Gwen’s shoulder violently. She cries out, Liam turning her head out the window. She elbows him, grinning. There it is: Nana and Papa’s house at the top of a green hill, an ancient oak tree with a swing waving in the wind. 

“Don’t climb on me,” Gwen grumbles. 

“Leave your sister alone,” says Dad. “Otherwise, I might tell Nana not to let you have pie.”

Liam gasps, even knowing that Nana would never do that. She dotes on her grandchildren. “You wouldn’t! Nana would never let you!”

“Damn straight,” Mom mutters.

“Swear word,” says Gwen.

“Oh, come on!” Mom complains. “That one doesn’t even count.”

“Yes it does,” Dad says, holding his hand out. “Pay up, Abigail.”

Mom grumbles, digging in her pocket for change, slapping into Dad’s outstretched hand. “You’re a snitch, Guinevere.”

Gwen grins. “How much is in the swear jar now?”

Dad thinks for a moment. “I’d say about five hundred cens,” he says as he counts the money. “Five hundred and twenty, now.”

Liam cheers, raising his arms into the air. “I love the swear jar!”

“Can I get some records this time?” asks Gwen. 

“Only if you two split it evenly,” Dad says.

Gwen and Liam look at each other. “I can do that.”

“Me too.”

Mom sighs, turning onto the long driveway. “You guys always pick on me.”

Liam, Gwen, and Dad all grin. 

The second that Mom puts the car into park, Liam and Gwen are scrambling out of the car and over each other. Liam slams the door open, shouting for Nana and Papa.

“Hey!” Papa shouts, walking into the foyer and sweeping Liam up into his arms. “You’ve gotten bigger since I last saw you!” He’s wearing his familiar red sweater and his hair is pulled back into a braid. 

Liam giggles, his legs swinging around as Papa laughs, his silvery-blond hair swinging around. Gwen rushes towards Nana, enveloping her in a hug. Nana hugs back. Her and Papa are the best huggers that Gwen knows.

Papa plops Liam back on the ground, his hands on his hips. “Where are your parents?” he asks. “Did you leave them behind?”

Liam giggles some more. “They’re still outside.”

“Although I would love to do some driving,” says Gwen.

Nana looks down at her, rolling her eyes. “Of course you would. You love cars, don’t you?”

Gwen shakes her head. “I just like going fast.”

Nana and Papa both laugh. “Come on,” says Nana, “I have a pie waiting in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Papa turns to Liam and Gwen. “She wouldn't even let me taste it until you kids got here,” he whispers.

“I can hear you,” Nana says in a sing-song voice. “I hope you aren’t corrupting my grandchildren.”

Papa gasps. “Me? Never.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. She knows Papa well enough to know when he’s teasing.

They all walk into the kitchen, where a steaming apple pie lays in the middle of the table. Liam and Gwen sit down as Nana cuts them both slices.

“Thanks,” says Gwen when her slice is placed in front of her.

“Thanks, Nana!” Liam says when he gets his own. Papa reaches over and cuts a piece for himself, taking it straight into his hands and biting down. 

“Excellent, as always,” he gushes. “You truly are phenomenal.”

“I know,” Nana says with a smile as she sits down. She flicks her long, graying hair behind her shoulder. 

The front door opens. “We’re here!” Mom cries from the foyer.

“We’re in the kitchen!” Nana calls back. “There’s apple pie!”

Gwen can imagine Dad’s grin. 

Mom and Dad walk in. Both Nana and Papa stand up to give them both hugs before sitting back down. Soon, everyone has a slice of pie in front of them. Nana and Papa hold hands as Papa finishes his pie. 

“How are you two holding up?” Mom asks.

Nana raises her eyebrows. “We can handle ourselves, Abigail.”

Papa licks his fingers. “I have Winry to keep me on the straight and narrow,” he says. 

Mom rolls her eyes. “Anything exciting happened recently?”

“Ronan moved in next door, he decided he wanted to continue the family legacy,” says Nana.

Mom grins. “He always was a competitive little…” She glances at her children. “Gremlin.”

Papa laughs. “I see you still have that damn swear jar going!”

“Papa swore,” says Liam.

Papa hands Liam a fifty-cen piece with a wink and a grin.

Mom gasps. Gwen and Nana only smile. “I cannot believe you’re paying my son off,” she says.

Papa shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gwen finishes her pie and slips out of the kitchen, knowing that Mom and Papa are going to bicker for a while. 

She wanders around the house, running her fingers along old alchemy books and memorabilia from Nana and Papa’s life before they retired. Most of the décor in the house is related to alchemy or automail in some way, with automail creations on the tables and walls and alchemy books lining the bookshelves. Gwen takes time to look at all of these, always managing to find something new and interesting. Nana and Papa’s house is a treasure trove of memories, and Gwen wants to find each and every one, to learn the stories behind each of them. 

If she’s being honest with herself, she wants to do a little more than that. She knows a lot of stories from Papa’s days as the Fullmetal Alchemist, both from what he’s told her and books that she’s read on the subject. None of the books do him justice, and even though she’s only eleven she already knows, when she feels she can do it right, she wants to sit down with both him and Nana, maybe even Great-Uncle Al, hearing them tell their stories. And then publish them, finally doing the legends about her Papa justice.

She finds herself on the stairs, looking at pictures. The entire wall is covered with them, the frames almost overlapping each other, and Gwen knows that this isn’t even a third of them. There’s always brand-new pictures on the wall each time she looks. 

There’s both Nana and Papa as children: with each other, with their parents, with Great-Grandma Pinako. There’s even the picture of Papa with his family, his own father holding Papa as a child with tears streaming down his face. She’s seen that one a thousand times, it’s one of the regulars. 

She can easily pick out Mom in the pictures, even with all of her aunts and uncles. There’s pictures of the various weddings Nana and Papa had been a part of, most of them their own children. Gwen picks out her parents’ wedding picture, and right next to it are pictures of her and Liam throughout the years. Gwen recognizes pictures of her cousins and even some famous people like the previous emperor of Xing and Fuhrer Roy Mustang.

Near the middle, there’s a small picture of Nana and Papa. It looks like they’re in their early twenties, both of them wearing white and grinning at the camera. They’re the only ones in the picture, and this one feels different. She can’t tell where they are, but they’re both clearly ecstatic about something.

“Having fun?”

Gwen turns. Dad is standing on the steps, looking at the pictures as well. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ve never seen this one, though.”

“I haven’t seen most of these,” Dad says, walking up the stairs to stand next to her. She points at the photograph. “That is a new one, however. Do you think Mom’ll know what it’s from?”

Gwen reaches up and carefully takes the picture off of the wall. Dad protests, but she doesn’t heed him any mind. She walks down the stairs, picture in hand, and sits back down at the kitchen table. “Can I ask you something?” she asks, interrupting Mom and Papa’s friendly bickering.

“Please,” says Nana.

She slides the picture towards Nana and Papa.

Mom’s face darkens. “Did you take that off of the wall?” she asks sharply. “You should have at least asked first, Gwen. What if they wanted to keep it there?”

Nana waves her hand around. “She’s fine, Abigail.”

Papa rests his fingers on the frame, a distant look in his eyes. “Do you remember this, Winry?” He turns to Nana, only having eyes for her.

Nana looks down at the picture and gets the same faraway look. “How could I forget?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

Gwen sits on the edge of her seat, her elbows resting on the table and her chin resting in her hands. Liam reaches for another slice of pie. 

Papa turns toward her, tapping the glass on the picture. “This picture was taken the day Nana and I got married.”

“Whoa,” says Liam, half-chewed pie still in his mouth. Mom reaches over the table and lifts his jaw up.

Nana nods, a soft smile on her face. “It was a Thursday. I remember that because Thursdays were the slow days in the shop…”

* * *

Winry wiped her forehead with a rag, spreading grease everywhere. She cursed and took off her gloves, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. Thank goodness it was a Thursday, because Thursdays gave her time to prepare for the weekend rush. 

She put her gloves back on and got back to attacking a certain screw with her screwdriver. It had been stripped by some idiot not taking care of their automail, her automail that she had slaved over—

“Winry? Your boy toy’s here,” Francisco shouted from the front.

Winry smiled and put the foot off to the side, taking off her gloves. She poked her head into the front of the shop. Ed stood there. He waved sheepishly when he saw her, and her face lit up.

“Mind if we go to lunch?” he asked, pointing at the door behind him.

Winry looked over at Francisco. “Go ahead,” he sighed, waving her out. “I’ll manage.”

Winry grinned. “You’re the best,” she said. She turned to Ed. “I’ll be super quick.” He nodded, and she ducked into the back room. She changed out of her work overalls and into her street clothes, taking extra care to scrub the grease stain off of her forehead. She waved at Francisco as she left, hand-in-hand with Ed.

“This is a surprise,” she said. “I thought you were helping Sheska re-organize the First Branch today.”

“I was, but I needed a break.” He looked over at her, a mischievous grin on his face. “Besides, I have plans for today.”

“Oh?” Winry asked with a grin. “Am I going to be privy to these plans?”

“I dunno. Why does Francisco always call me your ‘boy toy?’”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Winry laughed. “He’s kind of a weird dude. Great with automail, but still weird.”

“Sounds like someone I know. Hey!” he cried when Winry elbowed him in the side. Not hard enough to hurt, of course. 

“So. Where are we going for lunch?”

“Havoc showed me a café he used to take his girlfriends. I checked it out the other day, and thought you might like it.”

Winry raised her eyebrows. Ed was taking advice from Havoc now? That was a surprise. That, and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

“Here we are,” said Ed.

It was a nice café, with elegant outdoor seating and a small storefront. Plants were scattered everywhere, and there were small groups of people sitting around. It was a Thursday afternoon, after all.

They sat down in a fairly secluded spot with plants hiding them from the view of most people. Ed wasn’t the biggest fan of public spaces, a small side effect of saving the world. He shifted in his seat, and Winry reached across the table to rest her hand against his. “You okay?”

He looked at her and his face softened. “Yeah.”

A waiter came over, introducing himself and giving both of them menus. Winry looked over it, whistling.

“What?”

“It’s not our usual place, that’s for sure.”

Ed rolled his eyes, his hand still underneath Winry’s. “What do you want?”

Winry hummed. “I’m not sure, though I am hungry. I’ve been up since six trying to get this ankle working.”

Ed furrowed his brow. “I thought Thursdays were your easy days?”

“They are, so I use them to get ahead on my work. I have a client on Saturday who keeps ruining their ankle joints. They’ve been on a spare for about three weeks, but there’s this one screw that just won’t come out.”

Ed nodded. “That sucks.”

Winry leaned back. “Anyway. How’s your Thursday going?”

Ed took his hand off of the table and gulped. Winry’s eyes narrowed by a fraction. Something was off with him today.

“Winry,” he started, “do you remember what I said a few years ago before I left for Creta?”

“Where you shouted ‘equivalent exchange’ at me? Of course I do.”

“Well, um, I’ve been thinking. About everything that led up to that point, and how it’s been almost three years and we haven’t done anything about it; and if we have a traditional wedding we’ll have to invite half of Amestris.” He put a small red box in the middle of the table, and Winry’s heart stopped. “I didn’t have rings then, but I do now. And… I was wondering if you would maybe want to do that. Get married. Today. Or whenever, but soon. I figured today because it’s your slow day, but if you don’t want to that’s fine—“

“You’re asking if I want to elope with you?”

Ed’s face flushed. “I mean, we’ve kind of been engaged for three years, so it wouldn’t be eloping, exactly, but yeah. Kind of. Yes.”

Winry took the box and opened it. Inside, two silver rings rested on black silk. 

“I found some of my old automail and asked Granny to make them. I know she doesn’t do much work with automail anymore, but I figured—“

Winry put a finger over his lips, effectively shutting him up. “Yeah, let’s do it,” she said when she sat back in her seat.

“Really?” His face lit up and he almost looked like a child again. He reached for her hands and held them in his. “You want to? Like, really really want to?”

Winry laughed. “It’s not like I’m overly busy today. Besides, I’ve been wanting to get married to you for a while now.”

Their waiter came back. “Can I get you anything, or do you need more time?” he asked.

“We need more time,” said Winry, not taking her eyes from Ed’s face.

The waiter left.

“Let’s do it after we eat,” said Winry, her stomach grumbling. She looked down at the menu.

“Don’t you need a dress or something?”

Winry shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Both of them grinned and Winry’s stomach flip-flopped. If she was being honest with herself, she had always wanted a wedding where she walked down an aisle, with her loved ones surrounding her. But Ed was right, if they did have a traditional wedding they’d have to invite at least all of Briggs, General Mustang, Fuhrer Grumman, and an entourage from Xing that would include the emperor. It’d have been too much, and what was a wedding other than her and Ed tying themselves together? She only needed him for that, and an officiant to make it official. Besides, this was Ed; he’d have clammed up in front of that many people. 

The waiter came back and they ordered their food. Winry found that she wasn’t terribly hungry anymore as Ed and her talked logistics and general plans. Where to get a dress for her and a nice button-up for him, if they were going to town hall or a chapel. Both of them practically inhaled their food when it came , and before she knew it her and Ed were in a clothing shop several blocks away as she tried on dresses and he tried on shirts. 

The sales attendant was nice, helping them find something simple and white for each of them. Winry settled on a knee-length white dress with lace decorations on the sleeves that barely capped over her shoulders. Ed had a white button-up that he rolled above his elbows. They quickly paid for them, wearing the clothes out of the store and made their way to town hall. 

Ed squeezed her hand, making her smile. This was happening. They were doing this. She almost couldn’t breathe, and her breathing all but stopped when they walked into the license office. The woman sitting behind the main desk was reading a newspaper. She was a little portly, with her graying brown hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck.

“Um, hi,” said Ed. “We were hoping for a marriage license?”

“When were you thinking of getting married?” she asked, her voice a little nasally. She didn’t take her eyes off of the newspaper. 

“Today,” Winry said with an upturn in her voice. Ed repositioned his fingers in their clasped hands. 

The woman glanced up at them above her newspaper. “Are you pregnant?”

“What? No. We’re not,” said Ed, looking over at Winry. “We’re not pregnant, right?”

“No,” said Winry.

“Do you have rings?” asked the woman, folding her newspaper off to the side. 

Ed dug in his pocket for the little velvet box, pulling it out. “Yes.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “I feel like I recognize you.”

Ed rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

Winry cleared her throat to keep from laughing.

The woman stood up and walked over to a filing cabinet, her full height a head shorter than Winry’s. 

Winry squeezed Ed’s hand, letting out a shaky breath. He squeezed back. 

The woman pulled a piece of paper out of the filing cabinet and walked back to her desk, pulling out a pen and sitting down. “Can I get your full names, please?”

“Winry Ann Rockbell.”

“How do you spell Ann?”

“A-N-N.”

“And yours?” she asked, her pen hovering in the air.

“Edward Elric.”

The woman glanced up at Ed again. “You’re the Fullmetal Alchemist, aren’t you?”

Ed nodded, his cheeks turning pink. 

She glanced between him and Winry then shrugged. She finished filling out the required fields then spun the paper around. “Sign here, here, here, and here,” she said, pointing to where they were supposed to sign. 

Ed signed his spots first before handing the pen to Winry. Her hand shook as she signed her name on the dotted lines. Winry handed the pen back to her, and she grabbed the paper in one fluid motion. She stood up, paper in hand and grabbed a nearby book. “Follow me,” she said, leaving the room behind them. 

Ed and Winry looked at each other, both of them unable to keep a smile off of their faces. 

They followed after the woman, ignoring the people that pointed and whispered when they saw Ed. All Winry cared about was the man walking next to her and that in a few short minutes, after three years of waiting, he would be her husband. 

“I love you,” she whispered, loud enough for only him to hear.

He squeezed her hand. He wasn’t the best with words, but he showed his love in different ways. Winry had never doubted for a second that he didn’t love her back. 

The woman led them to a large, empty room and turned around to face them. “You kids ready?”

Winry almost spoke up, saying that they were twenty-one, but didn’t from a small shake of Ed’s head. They turned to face each other, Ed holding Winry’s hands in his. ”We’re ready,” she said.

The woman opened the book and cleared her throat. “Do you, Edward Elric, promise to take Winry Ann Rockbell as your wife; to have and to hold, in richer and in poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Ed looked right into Winry’s eyes, and she could have sworn they sparked. “Yes. I do.”

“Do you, Winry Ann Rockbell, promise to take Edward Elric as your husband; to have and to hold, in richer and in poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she said.

The woman closed the book. “Congratulations, you’re married.”

Tears leaked out of Winry’s eyes as Ed’s hands cupped her face, wiping the tears away. 

“It hardly feels real,” Winry said after the woman had left. She held onto his wrists. He released her face to pull out the velvet box, slipping the smaller of the two rings onto her finger.

“There,” he said. Winry took out the other ring and put it on his finger. A laugh bubbled out of her and she wrapped her arms around Ed’s neck. He hugged her back. “We should go somewhere,” he said softly in her ear, his breath warm.

Winry let go and grabbed his hand. “As long as it’s anywhere. Let’s just… get on a train and get off at a random stop, spend a week or so there.”

“You sure? There’s your automail shop…” Ed trailed off.

Winry grinned. “Francisco will understand. He’s been bugging me about you for months. Besides, we’re young. We don’t have to settle down anywhere, I just want to be with you.”

“Okay.”

They made their way out of town hall, blatantly ignoring the people that noticed Ed. Once they got to Ed’s apartment, they started packing. Winry already had most of her stuff there, she mostly used the apartment above the shop for storage.

They moved around the apartment, haphazardly throwing clothes into bags. Winry couldn’t keep a giddy smile off of her face, and Ed was being more touchy-feels than normal. 

“Did you get your toothbrush?” Ed asked from the bathroom.

“No,” Winry called out, zipping the bags up. Once that was done, she told Ed that she was going to make a call, then left the apartment and went to the phone shared by everyone on his floor. There was a line, but it was her turn soon enough. Winry bounced on the balls of her feet. 

She dialed up the automail shop. Francisco picked up on the third ring.

“Central Automail, this is Francisco speaking, how may I help you?” He had his customer service voice on full-force, and it was a little weird to hear.

“Hey, it’s Winry.”

“Winry!” he cried, the tone of his voice completely changing. “Why are you calling? Did something happen? Did your boy toy’s automail break down and you need to do a rush job?”

“No, nothing like that. Actually, I’m not going to be at work for about a week. Possibly longer.”

“O-kay, mind telling me why?”

Winry grinned, thinking of Ed back at the apartment. “No.”

Francisco sighed. “Fine. I’ll miss you here, it’ll be hell on earth with you gone, but it’s about time you took a vacation.”

“Thanks, Francisco.”

“You’re welcome. Just call me when you get back into town, yeah?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye. Oh, and tell Edward I said hi!”

Winry smiled, hanging up. She rushed back to the apartment, closing the door behind her. 

Ed poked his head out of the bathroom. “How’d it go?”

Winry grinned. “I got the time off of work. We can go anywhere we want. Oh, and Francisco says hi.”

Ed grinned back. “Good to know.”

Winry giggled, absurdly happy. She twisted the ring on her finger, its weight unfamiliar yet comfortable. She pushed off of the door and to the bags, slinging one over her shoulder and giving the other one to Ed. He was still wearing his white shirt, but he had thrown one of his many overcoats over it. His ring glistened in the light.

“You ready?” he asked.

Winry reached out to hold his hand. “With you? Anything.”

Ed looked around the apartment and snatched his camera off of one of his many bookshelves. “I’ve picked up a couple of things over the years, but the main one is to take pictures.”

Winry nodded, understanding. The only picture he had of his father was the single one, with the man holding a baby Ed in his arms with tears streaming down his face. Compare that to Maes Hughes, who had left his baby girl with hundreds of pictures of the two of them. Needless to say, both of them understood the importance of pictures and the memories they held.

Winry led Ed out of their apartment, still holding hands. Winry glanced back at the camera hanging around Ed’s neck and stopped the first person that walked past the. “Would you mind taking our picture?” she asked, taking the camera from Ed.

“Sure,” said the middle-aged man, a little confused. Winry showed him how to work the camera then put the bag she was holding on the ground. Ed did the same.

“Smile!” said the man.

Ed warped his arm around Winry’s shoulder, and she put her arm around his back, holding onto his waist. They smiled, the camera flashing. The man gave it back to Winry.

“Thank you,” she said, handing the camera back to Ed.

“Sure,” the man said, walking away.

Ed grabbed the bags, slinging them over his shoulders. “Where to next?”

Winry reached out to grab Ed’s hand. “Anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

Ed smiled and squeezed her hand. “Better get going,” he said, “the next train leaves in half an hour.”

Winry smiled.

* * *

Gwen rubs her hand over Nana’s dress, the lace still intact, the soft fabric ruffling under her palm. Mom smiles, eating her third slice of pie. “That story never gets old,” she says.

“Where did you go?” Liam asks, enthralled by the tale.

Nana and Papa look at each other. “Star Valley, I think. It’s a small town close to West City,” Papa says. “After that we made our way to Dublith where I had to endure Teacher giving me crap for not inviting her to our wedding.”

“It’s not like we invited anyone else,” says Nana. “Besides, we got the giant wedding party when Al got married.” She turns to her grandchildren. “The only reason we would have had a big wedding was for show, as a way to thank everyone for the support they gave to Papa and me.”

“Which we did anyway,” Papa grumbles, “along with a thousand thank-you and apology notes. I think Armstrong out of everyone was miffed that he missed our wedding.”

Nana laughs. “I remember that.”

Gwen recognizes the name, but isn’t sure if it’s General Olivier Armstrong or Colonel Alex Armstrong, both long since retired. She doesn’t ask, her hand still on Nana’s wedding dress. Liam plays with the lace at the sleeves, his eyes wide. Dad isn’t there, claiming he had to take a nap halfway into the story.

“Anyway, enough about us,” says Nana.

Liam narrows his eyes. “I kind of want to hear more stories.”

“Me too,” says Gwen.

Papa looks over at Nana, his eyes twinkling. “What say you? Our grandchildren are requesting more stories.”

Nana looks at the pair of them.

Mom stands up. “I’ll see how Dad is doing,” she says, taking the framed photograph with her. 

“What about the picture where you guys are in Xing?” Gwen asks, referring to a specific photograph up on the wall.

“Which one?” Nana says, laughing. “We went there at least once a year, especially after they put that railroad across the desert.”

“You guys have been to Xing?” Liam exclaims. “I want to go to Xing!”

Papa leans in close to Liam. “Your mom was born in Xing.”

Liam’s eyes widen. “Whoa,” he says. “Mom never told us that. What about that story?”

Nana and Papa share a look. “You tell this one,” says Nana. “My throat is parched.”

“As you wish,” Papa says.

He starts the story, his voice expressive and his gold eyes wide. Gwen inherited those eyes, and she stares at her grandfather in complete rapture.

Nana stands off to the side, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Link (because idk how to embed links): https://dzioo.tumblr.com/post/173003859645/recently-i-signed-up-for-an-anthology-but-sadly  
> It’s really good, I recommend reading it, and if you have read it again because it’s that amazing. 
> 
> This was also for 503 Week, today’s prompt was “Memories.”
> 
> EDIT: [thephilosophersapprentice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice) wrote a sort of continuation/missing scene from this called ["Snapshots and Phone Lines"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987716). It's really really really good, you should check it out!!


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